


Blood and Clay

by PermianExtinction



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, But Hux Will Bite Your Ear Off, I could tag this as 'fighting kink' or 'bloodplay' but it doesn't actually get to that point, Kylo Ren has an 8 pack, Kylo Ren is shredded, M/M, Oblivious Hux, Obvious Ren, it's just Fighting and Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:37:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6262480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PermianExtinction/pseuds/PermianExtinction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Knight seems to come alive when fighting. The General watches with something akin to envy in his heart. After the battle, there are new scores to be settled, because that attentive gaze did not go unnoticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Clay

**Author's Note:**

> Like the last fic I posted, this initially went up on my tumblr, permian-tropos. It was in two parts; I stitched those parts together for this one-shot. Please enjoy the short tale of two villains getting too excited about violence.

General Hux could admit that he was envious of Kylo Ren in many ways, but he most certainly did not want to _be_ Kylo Ren. He loathed the fact that the Knight could act with impunity, outside of the hierarchy of command. Did he want that power for himself, though? Quite emphatically, the answer was no. It would remove all significance from the work he had put in to climb through the ranks. It would invalidate the meaning behind those ranks; it would destabilize the notion of Order.

He told himself that he didn’t want to hold the same kind of favor with Supreme Leader Snoke as Ren did, either. Snoke was an enigma, a frighteningly unstable variable in the calculations that underpinned the efforts of the First Order. And Hux had no interest in being tied in direct service to Snoke, to have such a presence always settled like a coiled viper in the back of his consciousness.

It had taken him a very stubborn while to admit the one thing Ren had in abundance that Hux craved, yet had to deny himself. But he did finally acknowledge it one day, while overseeing a very tense, chaotic battle. 

He watched the land strike on twelve tall monitors, each showing a feed from one of the main air squads. Two of the twelve feeds had been destroyed; their screens showed only static. Hux knew he’d have to keep an eye on those, in case the Resistance tried to capitalize on the blind spot they’d opened up.

But he couldn’t keep his gaze away from the low-altitude feed that tracked the movements of the key piece in the strategy.

That piece was Kylo Ren.

Ren moved like the predator that he was. And when in battle, he didn’t display the same levels of imprudence that he would when cooped up on the _Finalizer_ , when he would lash out at techs and disrupt normal activities by taking his frustration out in destructive episodes. On the battlefield Kylo Ren was feral and unrestrained, but he was also capable. He knew when to conceal himself from the enemy and when to rise up and strike without warning, eviscerating the formations, gutting the speeders whizzing just overhead with powerful sweeps of his saber.

Kylo Ren destroyed everything in his path with an apparent savage joy. He _belonged_ on the battlefield. It made him come alive. Most soldiers became fatigued; Kylo Ren’s stamina seemed to work in reverse from everyone else’s, because his strength only grew, and grew, until he was as unchecked as a hurricane.

Hux, who endured every hour with a constant weariness eating at his very bones from all the nights he forced himself to stay awake, keeping track of fleet movements all throughout the galaxy, felt like a barely reanimated corpse compared to that.

After the battle waned in intensity, and the old Empire base on the continent had been reclaimed for the First Order, Kylo Ren returned to the _Finalizer_ on his command shuttle. Hux didn’t greet him at the docking bay; there was plenty of work to take care of even with the battle unofficially won. It would likely be another night of little sleep, with the fluorescent glow of the datapad filling his eyes even with the rest of the room sunken in darkness.

What heralded the arrival of Lord Ren to the bridge wasn’t the sound of his footsteps, or the distinctive distortion layering over his breath. It was the scent of clay and drying blood. What a remarkable bouquet. Hux did not tolerate filth on his ship, or on his person, but that was because it represented a lack of rigorous discipline. And cleaning was a very calming, ordering act.

But you couldn’t clean your fury or your fatigue away, at a certain point.

And despite not having the ability to directly sense emotions through the Force, Hux could feel the raw energy radiating from Kylo Ren, the exultance in violence, the heightened sensory experience that came with adrenaline. Heightened senses, but stronger tolerance to them. The thrill made one less likely to be overwhelmed by such things as pain and discomfort and disgust.

Or so Hux had heard.

“All and all, a successful rout of the enemy.” Ren was just behind him, and his tone was slightly less detached than usual. Slightly closer – dare he think it, more intimate?

It was as close as Kylo got to praising Hux, so naturally Hux decided to respond sourly. “I don’t you to tell me that. I was watching the battle on the video feeds.”

“I know,” Ren murmured. “I know you were watching.”

Hux felt his throat constrict, but it was a purely physiological thing, merely his own body expressing panic, though the irony of it happening in front of Ren did not escape him. He wondered if anyone in the room had caught the whisper. How had Ren managed to make it sound so… perverse?

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Hux snapped.

Ren moved closer still, and at this point Hux would have stepped back, and damned his pride, but that would have meant falling off the platform in the center of the bridge. “I could feel your eyes on me. Such hunger. Such captivation. You should not allow yourself to be so distracted.”

 _Was I really that bad? No, no, Ren’s twisting things to throw off my guard_. “Battle makes you bold, Lord Ren. I will forgive your impertinence this once.”

Surely everyone on the bridge was staring at this unusual confrontation between their superiors. But when Hux glanced around, everyone’s eyes seemed to skate over him and Ren, with a peculiar glassiness. Ren must have been exerting his Force powers, to keep them distracted.

“You will forgive it?” The voice coming through the mask was icily amused. “In what capacity? I am not one of your subordinates.”

“In a personal capacity, Ren. I will personally not take offence. And are you going to move aside or push me off this walkway?”

Kylo Ren seemed frustrated, and for once unable to get what he wanted. He shifted, to give Hux space to step around him, which was a rare acquiescence of authority. “I did not aim to offend.” Almost an apology, but his tone was laced with irritation.

“You seemed to be offering criticism, at the very least. Accusing me of… indecency.”

Ren’s mask did not, obviously, betray his expression. But from the way he held himself, Hux had the strange suspicion that Ren was staring at him rather appraisingly. He resisted the urge to demand what he had said that was warranting such a reaction.

“If you need me, I will be in my personal training hall,” Ren eventually said, rather abruptly. Normal routine for him, Hux knew; the Knight typically overexerted himself during battles and mild follow-up exercise was needed to loosen his muscles, and prevent injury.

 _If you need me_. Hux continued to be baffled by Ren’s behavior. Was he interested in discussing something? Usually Ren only told Hux where he was headed if he wished to confer on some matter; otherwise he went where he pleased and cared little about sharing his location to anyone.

“Have _I_ offended you in some way?” It was a bitter thing to let fall from his lips, but he didn’t want Ren holding a grudge.

He was faintly surprised when Ren whirled on his heel and practically stormed from the room with an audible and unmistakably impatient click of his tongue.

As far as Hux was concerned, this confirmed that offence had been taken. Maybe he _would_ have to join Ren in the training hall soon. Otherwise something or someone might suffer the saber.

* * *

 

Kylo Ren technically had more than one personal training hall. But he regularly destroyed them; it was the only part of the _Finalizer_ that Hux begrudgingly allowed to be razed like a Rebel outpost. Two out of three would be in repair, while the third was operational. Hux did not have any interest in planetside sciences, but the comparison had been made once to crop rotation, in which farmers left some fields fallow while others were in use.

Hux headed to the one hall not in repairs after making sure that the victory was secure. He’d been able to delegate certain responsibilities that he tended to take on himself to the junior officers, framing it as a sort of test of their abilities. While they struggled to impress him, he could take care of the peculiar situation with Ren.

He hesitated before keying open the double doors, because it felt like he was walking into a trap. The halls were silent. Troopers were not patrolling this sector at the moment.

The notion of being alone with Ren was not a particularly secure one, particularly since Hux’s power came from his army and fleet, not his individual presence.

 _Go inside, coward_ , he told himself, and that was enough to shame him into action. The doors slid open with a grinding hiss, and Hux stepped into a remarkably gloomy, shadowed room with tall ceilings and equipment scattered about. A few paces forward, looking around for any hint of movement, and then he huffed indignantly. Trust Ren to be so dramatic.

The prickling on his back was a test, one that he quelled with irritation. “You’re trying to sneak up behind me, aren’t you?”

“How did you guess?” A voice close enough to have the warm exhalation touch his neck. There was no distortion; the mask was off.

“Knowing _you_ ,” Hux replied bitterly, and he didn’t even need to finish his sentence.

He heard the footsteps now, moving away from him, and when he turned he saw the figure of Ren standing near the entrance, touching the console beside the door. “Just keeping you on your toes, General,” the Knight said, and then the lights came on to a reasonable level.

Hux was ready to shoot back a scathing remark, but he found he had nothing to say. Though Ren’s little games were predictable and cheap in tactics, they sent a whisper of cold electricity up Hux’s spine. It was most certainly fear, the feeling of being stalked like a wild beast, but Hux felt a bit less lethargic when the fear struck him. Perhaps that was why he goaded Ren so often. Playing with fire, so to speak.

And then there was the fact that Ren was, most appallingly, half naked. He had stripped down to nothing but his trousers, not even leaving on the underlayer of his outfit that covered his arms and chest but bared his abdomen, to keep him from overheating. When Ren was fully clothed, with the mask covering his face and changing his voice, one could be forgiven for thinking of him as mostly mechanical. But there was flesh under those robes. Indeed, there was.

Ren was returning, approaching with an insolently amicable spring in his step. “Good to have you here, General. You ought to drop by more often.” Horrifyingly, he put a hand on Hux’s shoulder, brushing lightly as he passed, before raising his arms above his head and stretching languidly, letting those bulging muscles on his back and shoulders roll and flex.

The man had no right to speak to Hux in such friendly manner. Especially not with his helmet off and his raven hair spilling from his head in waves, and subtle but very human expressions flickering over his face, and the scent of blood still clinging to him, and the whole half-naked thing.

Hadn’t Ren been _angry_ with him? Was this good mood just a prelude to frightful retribution?

But the only thing Hux imagined Ren could have been angry about was the fact that Hux had been staring at him during the battle. And right now, Ren’s body language was practically a demand to be stared at.

“What did you wish to discuss, Ren?” Hux hoped his voice was perfectly level and professional.

Slowly, Ren turned around and examined Hux thoughtfully, biting his lower lip. His shoulders hunched for a moment; the confidence of moments before revealing itself to be a façade.  He rubbed his forearm; the arm crossing over his chest offered him some modesty, and Hux wondered if this was intentional, if Ren was actually body-shy at the same time as he was showing off.

Abruptly, Ren looked away, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “Mmm. You’re keeping something secret. Tell me.”

“E-excuse me… what?” How eloquent, Hux thought, through the shock. Not only was the question unexpected, but why would Kylo Ren have to request something like that at all, when he could take whatever he liked from people’s minds?

“I know what you’re thinking—”

Hux blanched a little. “Do _not_ —”

Ren smirked. “Don’t be so fearful, General. It was merely made plain from your expression.”

The blood was still rushing in Hux’s ears, so to say that he relaxed would have been misleading. But he did still himself, and lowered his shoulders from a defensive drawn-up position. “With all due respect, you’re being deliberately obtuse, Lord Ren, and I don’t have time to dance around trying to guess your real intentions.”

Rubbing his knuckles idly, Kylo Ren shot Hux a knowing look. “With all _due_ respect? Based on how you phrased that, you don’t think very much respect is due.”

“So you noticed,” Hux snapped. Provoking Ren was a delicate game to play. Though not a gambler in other respects, Hux liked to push his luck in this one area. “What particular secret are you after, Ren? And why do you expect me to share it? Why do I owe you a secret?”

Ren stepped closer, his brows knitted with concentration. “You’re so good at projecting _hatred_ , General. It’s like a shadowy miasma that clings to your limbs wherever you walk.”

How pleasant, Hux thought, as his nostrils flared in disgust. “Really? Am I projecting it now?” _I had better be._

Ren lifted his hands and cupped them in the air on either side of Hux’s head, as if warming his palms on the radiant loathing rolling off of the man. One corner of his lips curved upwards. “Oh, yes.”

“Interesting how that happens whenever you’re around.” Playing with fire, letting the flames lick against the skin, and dancing away before they can burn…

“And how it goes away when I’m not beside you, or at the very least, it lessens.”

“You _assume_.” Why was Ren staring at him so intently? Even though he was having trouble meeting Hux’s eyes, so his own eyes had fallen to fix on the bare skin just under Hux’s jaw. _Sizing up my jugular, like slavering beast?_ Hux thought. _Or… watching my pulse?_

“I told you before. I felt you watching me during the battle, but it was not a hateful gaze.”

Close. Too close. A datapad could have only just been squeezed lengthwise in the space between their chests. Hux caught that scent again, the blood and the clay, but it was overlaid with the heady musk of Ren’s sweat.

“You were performing your duties adequately; I had no reason to criticize.”

“And no reason to pay any particular attention then, either…”

The slightly sing-song, mocking edge in Ren’s tone broke through Hux’s defenses in an ugly way; his shoulders shuddered and he stepped back, swallowing the buildup of saliva in his mouth. Ren had driven him into a corner with this conversation; denial of everything would lead to Ren suspecting the most extreme explanation.

He inhaled; he exhaled. “If you must know. I envy the vitality you display on the battlefield. I have never been able to experience war from the perspective of a solider; though I prefer my command bridge and would not exchange it for anything, I wonder if the glory of victory would feel different with one’s hands painted with the blood spilled by one’s own efforts—”

Hux had to stop talking because the entranced, hungry glow burning in Ren’s eyes was getting distracting, and a bit unsettling. The tip of Ren’s tongue emerged and slid briefly over the underside of his upper lip, a contemplative but, to a certain mind, lascivious gesture.

“You’d like to know what it feels like,” he then said abruptly. Purposefully, he circled Hux, and though the Knight was exerting no baleful Force powers, Hux was frozen in place. “To experience such… vitality.” Ren’s tone was softly triumphant but with a tiny edge of wonderment, as if he’d expected something different from Hux, but what he got was even better.

“Don’t… exaggerate; I merely felt curiosity over the—”

Interrupting again, Ren drew up to Hux from behind, and pressed a feather-light touch to the back of Hux’s left wrist. “I could satiate that curiosity.”

Hux scowled, to bury a different emotion under the veil of anger. “Why _would_ you?”

“It might amuse me,” murmured Ren, slowly trailing his fingers up Hux’s arm, until it reached the First Order insignia sewn to his sleeve; he pressed down there, as if the spot were a bruise. His breath was once again tickling the back of Hux’s neck, causing tiny hairs to stand on end.

It had happened so quickly; all of a sudden Hux was being sized up like a cut of meat with Ren’s purring voice echoing in his ears, and if he didn’t act fast then everything would be over in an instant. He shoved Ren back with his elbow, whirling around to face off against the man, but Ren acted fast as well, catching Hux’s forearm and gripping it tightly, preventing Hux from stepping away.

“Let go of me this instant!” Hux demanded – a bit shrilly, though he would never describe it as such.

Ren was starting at him with vicious intensity, leaning in to breathe the words all too close to Hux’s lips. “Don’t hold back. You want this.”

“I want _this!_ ” Hux snarled, and smashed his forehead against the bridge of Kylo Ren’s nose.

His skull rang for a long moment, one in which everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Then Hux freed his left fist and, still in a daze from the painful buzzing in his ears, punched the Knight in the trachea. It was not a calculated decision; his mind simply identified the weak spot all on its own and compelled his body to strike at it, to not let the opening slip away.

His knees bent, his hips dropped. Center of gravity shifting lower. Ren had reeled back but the motion had been elastic; now the man, with all that impressive _chest_ , was throwing his weight against Hux, trying to force him to the floor. Hux struggled to plant his feet, and then toppled over, his back slamming against the duracrete. Ren was everywhere on top of him, trying to pin him down, but Hux writhed and struggled and managed to jerk his knee up.

A choked noise from Ren told him that the knee had hit its mark, and then Hux reached up to grab a handful of that long black hair – always a liability in a fight – and _yanked_ , snapping Ren’s head back and then cracking his chin against the floor with a hard downward jerk.

Ren rolled to his side and Hux struggled free, but then a hand – perhaps it wasn’t a hand – grabbed his ankle and forced him back to his knees, though he didn’t let himself fall all the way. A heavy body pressed up against his back and a fearsomely strong arm snapped around his neck like a vise.

 _Move, before you lose your strength, before he finds his balance!_ Hux tilted forward, pitched Ren over his shoulders, and wriggled free of the chokehold.

He found himself with a mouthful of blood seconds later, because somehow he’d thought it a fine idea to lunge at Ren, straddle him, and attempt to bite one of his big stupid ears off. And he’d nearly managed it, before his throat constricted by unnatural means and he found it and the rest of his torso dragged upright, like his neck was attached to a noose hanging from the ceiling.

Ren had one of his hands in a loose, open-palmed gesture; it was horrifically casual the way he seemed to require no effort to hold Hux up. His eyes were wide; his nose and right ear were leaking blood, and his chest heaved up and down.

“Why, General Hux,” he slowly declared, a grin spreading over his face. “You weren’t _curious_ about the savagery of the battlefield. You _missed_ it.”

There was just enough room in Hux’s windpipe for him to choke out, his voice rasping, “Preposterous. I’ve never fought as a soldier in my life.”

“Who did you fight, then?”

“Students,” Hux grunted. “At. Academy.”

Ren released him, and Hux only just managed to catch himself, hands pressing on either side of Ren’s head on the floor. In the space between them, the air puffed out by their labored breaths mingled. Hux was aware that his uniform was crooked, that his hair was mussed out of its perfect shape, and that there was someone else’s blood trickling between his teeth.

He felt _alive._

“That was… that was _brutal_ ,” Kylo Ren said breathlessly. His face was red from exertion – Hux assumed because he’d already been tired out from the real battle – but his dilated pupils could not be attributed to that. “You must have had quite the reputation. So we… uh… should we… do this again sometime…?”

But Hux was already picking himself up, spitting out a splatter of red liquid onto the floor and wiping his mouth, then sharply adjusting his jacket as he marched from the hall and keyed the doors shut behind him.

 


End file.
